


I Haven’t Been by Your Side

by Archer_Hathaway



Series: TMINAB Canon [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, Horcrux Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29774625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer_Hathaway/pseuds/Archer_Hathaway
Summary: It meant everything and nothing.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: TMINAB Canon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188374
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	I Haven’t Been by Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot of Harry and Hermione during the horcrux hunt. It is alluded to in my other work, The Mind is Not a Book (SS/HG pairing). 
> 
> You can read this as a stand-alone, or as a deeper dive into the story of TMINAB. 
> 
> Please leave me your thoughts.

She sat at the poor excuse for a kitchen table. The water in the pathetic attempt at tea had long gone cold. Her eyes were red rimmed, the eyelids and surrounding skin were puffy and sensitive to touch. She kept them squinted, practically shut against the harsh light that caused her very pupils to ache. Her crying seemed to have finally stopped, but whether this was attributed to acceptance or her body’s inability to produce any more tears, it wasn’t certain. Perhaps it was acceptance; she knew the five stages of grief and she must have cried through every single one of them. 

So now she sat at the poor excuse for a kitchen table and drew a deep, soul-centering breath and spoke for the first time in almost a week. “Ron is gone.”

Harry had been watching her for hours. While she had stared into the blankness in front of her at the table, Harry had perched himself in a squishy chair where she was his primary focus but the woods could be seen through the flap in the tent door. For a week he had lived with Ron’s absence, and during that entire time he had lived with the hollowness that poured from Hermione. There hadn’t been anything he could have said or done that was going to make it better for either of them.

Instead the duo had orbited each other like lonely planets in a broken solar system. They were anchored by their daily routine, existing solely to remind the other that living was a choice they were consciously making, despite the crushing despair they were entrenched in. They were a synchronous machine; finding compliment in their preferred tasks, taking turns with the damnable locket, sitting watch into the bleak nights of the forest, and never acknowledging the sorrow their friend’s departure had wrought upon them.

At her words, Harry fully shifted to face her. She had opened her eyes fully to look at him. He didn’t know what the right response was-he wasn’t sure there was one. He just said the only thing he could think of, and waited for her to respond.

“Yes, he is.”

She startled at his voice. Then rose from her chair, washed her mug out and crossed the tent to where he sat. She reached behind his neck and lifted the locket chain off of him. She affixed it around her own and stepped back, walking out of the tent flaps. He heard her beginning to dismantle the wards, and he knew it was time to move on. From everything.

—xx—

“Harry!”

Panic and concern laced through Hermione’s voice. She had managed to apparate them out of Godric’s Hollow, but it had been too close. Now she was hoisting an injured and unconscious Harry onto the worn mattress of her bed in their tent. Hermione shook him as carefully as she could while searching through her beaded bag with the other hand. Her fingers finally clasped around the bottle of dittany as Harry’s eyes rolled behind his glasses.

“Harry!”

At the next command of his name, Harry shot up into a seated position and grasped his head with both hands. He exclaimed in pain, as the arm inflicted with Nagini’s bite fell from his forehead, forcing him to grip at the lightning scar with one hand.

Hermione felt helpless as she watched him yell in agony. There was no way of knowing if it was caused by the bite or the remnants of Voldemort’s presence in his head. She carelessly poured the dittany across the mark on his arm, which only served to increase Harry’s painful howls, but it worked at quickly stitching together the skin and healing the wound. As function returned to his injured arm, Hermione wasn’t quick enough to keep Harry from having it join his other hand as they grasped his head.

Harry rocked in his seat on the mattress, clutching his head and crying out in anguish. Hermione didn’t know what she could do to keep him from injuring himself further, or potentially keeping any kind of connection with Voldemort open between them. And then horrified, she watched his hands drift to the chain of the locket still affixed around his neck. He was clawing at it, but Hermione could tell something was wrong.

The metal of the chain seemed to have fused into Harry’s skin. She batted his hands away and traveled the length of the chain to where it disappeared under the buttons of his shirtfront. Sparing no thought for propriety, Hermione deftly unbuttoned the garment and drew back with a gasp. The locket was fusing itself to him, the skin on Harry’s chest was angry and inflamed around the shape of the offensive piece of jewelry. As Harry warred with his scar, Hermione clawed at the locket.

Her friend’s screams increased as she battled the horcrux, immune to the concern of damaging Harry’s skin as she pried Slytherin’s locket away from him. As it released from his skin with a sickening hiss, Hermione flung it across the small sleeping space to watch it land on the bottom bunk of Harry and Ron’s beds. She swiftly grabbed the bottle of dittany, and once again poured it generously across her best friend’s skin. As the dittany worked, Harry’s vocalizations began to soften. Hermione felt herself exhale as Harry’s hands began to slowly drop to his sides.

She watched his eyes begin to flutter, and without much thought, she climbed into the bed behind him. She rested against the headboard and guided Harry’s torso against her own chest. She swung her legs around his side and curled into him as much as she could. Hermione’s breathing eased as she felt Harry relax into her. She reached her hand up and began to stroke her fingers through his hair, reminding herself of the many childhood nights her own mother had done the same after a bad dream.

Harry whimpered under her ministrations. She cooed and shushed him sweetly, easing him into rest and recovery. She managed to grip the handle of her wand, discarded near her knees on the bed in the chaos, and raise the blanket over the pair of them. Harry drifting into sleep, and Hermione keeping watch while adrenaline flooded her veins.

Harry had fallen asleep, and Hermione reflected. The events of the evening played like a terrifying movie through her mind. She tried not to focus on the parts that were too gruesome, and chose to think of her friend’s unending bravery. But his reckless need to be brave was going to get him killed. And she had fought too hard for too long to keep him alive.

Hermione draped her arm protectively across Harry’s chest, still exposed and pinkly puckered as it healed, while tucking the other behind her head in a makeshift pillow. No one would be keeping watch tonight, and Hermione was comforted by the knowledge that she had managed to save him again.

Harry James Potter . She smiled to herself and squeezed him tighter at his escaped dreamy whimper.

—xx—

It was New Year’s Eve. Not that things such as trivial as holidays had meant much to them, but it was a good way to mark how much time had passed. It had been almost five months on the run, almost four since the Slytherin locket had begun to suck away any hope or joy they could have found, almost two since it had broken Ron and he had abandoned them...and a week since the trap at Godric’s Hollow had almost killed them. This was all compounded on the other various tragedies of the year: Dumbledore’s murder, the attack on Hogwarts, and Snape’s true allegiance. It had been a truly terrible year.

Harry walked a circle around the small fire built in front of the tent as he mused over how drastically life had changed. He wasn’t entirely sure how much more he was expected to endure. And as he twirled the vine wood wand between his fingers, he looked to the tent and wondered how much more he could expect Hermione to endure as well.

He walked into the tent to see her seated next to the small wizarding wireless. She had her arms wrapped around her knees and her head titled to rest atop them. Her face was drawn and exhausted, which Harry could recognize it mirrored his own. She was listening to the small speaker, but a deadness was creeping into her eyes that Harry had never seen before. Hermione had always been the most eager, the most full of enthusiasm of all three of them. While they were similar in their upbringings away from the wizarding world, Harry had acclimated quickly. Having a reputation to precede you took a tremendous amount of pressure off the introduction process. Hermione, however, was destined to be an outcast from the beginning. But in all the years they had been together, for all the ways she had stood by him, and all the times she had literally saved his hide, he had never seen the light and wonder leave her eyes. Now, it was becoming harder to see.

Making a quick decision, Harry secured the flaps of the tent, threw up a flimsy warming charm in the space and put her wand on the kitchen table. He advanced toward her and watched her look at him. He extended his hand and she grabbed it while rising. Wordlessly, Harry unclasped the locket from her and added it to the table. She held a questioning look in her face, but didn’t say anything. 

A gentle song began to drift over the air, and Harry kept her hand enclosed in his own. He then looped his other arm around her waist and began to sway them to the light beat of the music. Hermione only tensed for a moment, then relaxed into the motion and moved with him.

It wasn’t the stiff waltzing of the Yule Ball, or the enthusiastic gyrating that accompanied Gryffindor parties. This was a slow dance of two friends clinging to the small shreds of humanity they had left. They clung to each other. Hermione gripped his hand a little tighter and Harry pulled her closer to him at her waist. She was small and weightless in his arms, and he enjoyed the small exhale she gave when her head found his shoulder to rest upon.

Harry dropped their outstretched arms in favor of enclosing both arms around her middle, and she gently laid hers partially around his neck and resting against his chest. He didn’t stop himself when he turned his face to inhale against her curls, and he felt little surprise when Hermione raised a hand to play in the hair at the base of his skull. 

The song had ended, and their swaying stopped. They stood in the makeshift living space of their tent wrapped in each other’s arms, and Harry felt little initiative to move away. Hermione’s actions seemed to align with his thoughts, for she looped her arms under his in a strong embrace and drew her head up to look at him.

“Harry,” she began. “This is the first time, in a long time, I haven’t felt sad. Or angry. Or worried. Or scared.”

He looked down into her chocolate eyes, and the little light in them was trying to break through to the surface. He had missed it, he realized. “Me too.”

He reached up to push a baby curl off the side of her face. She leaned her face into his touch, and he cupped her cheek, tracing his thumb across the skin that held her freckles. Harry didn’t pull his hand away and the pair stared at each other, eyes fixed and lips parted in surprise.

Hermione was the first to move. She trailed a soft hand down his back to rest upon his narrow hip. It lit something in him, and Harry fisted the flannel of her shirt in his hand. He felt his eyes flicker to her lips and then all across her face before settling back to her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and her name came out broken and choked, the only audible sound was a soft, “Mi.”

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but with the entirety of the tent around them still, Harry didn’t miss it. In a perfect movement, their lips met in the middle. A gentle initial brush, almost chaste, before they were slotting against each other.

Harry recognized this was different than kissing Ginny. It lacked the fiery passion that always accompanied their kisses, but it held a comfort and familiarity he hadn’t felt before. Hermione’s lips were soft, pliant, and responsive under his. Her hands were now tracing patterns up and down his spine, and one arm was snaking around to reach his head where he felt her fingers card through the messy raven locks. She released a soft breathy noise as their mouths readjusted and found a new angle against each other. Harry found no resistance when his tongue delicately traced her lips seeking entrance to her mouth. 

They stayed with this new shift for several minutes. Breath, lips, and tongues gently exploring between them, as hands found purchase in each other’s hair, around their waists or necks. Finally, Hermione drew back and held his face between her hands. “Harry, I-This is all very....” She swallowed and tried again. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea for us to continue this.”

He looked down at his feet and felt himself beginning to shake his head in agreement, realizing too late he couldn’t move his head as she still held it. She was forcing him to look at her, which meant whatever she was going to say next would be important. He inhaled and waited for it.

“But, I don’t think I want to stop.” His eyes widened. “I don’t feel numb right now. Please don’t take that away. I want to keep feeling. It doesn’t have to mean anything, I-“

It was Harry’s turn to hold her. He removed her hands from his face, squeezing them and kissing her knuckles. “Hermione, this will mean everything.”

She surged forward and captured his mouth once more. Harry reacted with an equal fervor before walking her backwards to her single bed. They didn’t have to analyze what was going to happen next, they both knew each other too well for that. Her fingers began at the top button of his shirt. His were already pushing her flannel over her shoulders. His shirt swiftly joined hers on the floor. Hermione’s knees bumped the frame of the bed, jarring the pair apart. Harry was bare chested and Hermione was in an ivory bra. Instead of reaching for each other, they both made quick work of buckles and buttons on their pants. A soft laugh echoed as they recognized that their footwear impeded their progress. Shoes and socks were soon shucked.

They faced each other for only a moment before Hermione sat upon the edge of the bed and scooted into the middle of the small mattress. Harry watched her reach behind her back and the straps of her bra released their tension. She pulled them down and tossed it onto the floor. Harry’s eyes roamed over her. He kneeled a leg on the bed, leaning over to kiss her sweetly on the cheek and whisper in her ear. “You are beautiful.”

He rose again to full height and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. She followed his lead, laying back enough to draw the elastic on her knickers down. Then, they were both naked. Harry was relieved to register that neither of them were embarrassed. Instead, Hermione reached for him, and he climbed slowly between her parted legs. He supported his weight on his forearms, looking at her deeply and ignoring the way his erection was further excited by its placement against her thigh.

“Have you ever? With Ginny?” She asked softly. She was tracing featherlight touches up his arms, and Harry saw her rare vulnerability on display. He shook his head.

“No.” He kissed her again, tenderly. “It wasn’t ever the right time. You?”

“Ginny’s not really my type of Weasley,” she commented. Harry was grateful for the joke. “But, no. I’ve never either.”

The two simply looked at each other for a while. Harry realized he didn’t need words with her to understand what they were saying. This wasn’t how either had pictured this moment in their lives, but they wouldn’t change it now for anything. The pressures of their task, the challenges and darkness of their world, and the uncertainty it brought could all be forgotten between the two. Their kissing returned, and now Harry could feel passion.

Desire swirled around them, and as easily as they had danced together, Harry found his body naturally responding to Hermione. Breathy moans, sharp inhales, delicate cursing, and pressure built between them. By the time Harry became aware of the gentle rhythm they had set, Hermione was flushed.

It was unlike anything the boys in the dorm had spoken of. It wasn’t as complicated or uncomfortable as they had mentioned. He had expected to feel more uncoordinated, but being with Hermione...they had been through so much together, he knew he would always be able to read her and anticipate her movements and needs for the rest of their lives.

And then, they were simply wrapped in each other, thin sheens of sweat covering them, and a pleasant numbness tingling through his body. Hermione was curled against him, legs still tangled together, and they were just breathing. Harry pulled her closer to him, arms securing her to him.

“You called me ‘Mi’.” She spoke suddenly. “Before. You called me ‘Mi’.”

Harry searched the past hour. He had. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I know how much you dislike nicknames.”

Her fingers tripped lazily over his torso and she lifted her head to look at him. “I don’t think I mind that so much.”

She gave him a sweet kiss before tucking herself back against him. She sighed, an almost happy sound in the quiet tent. Harry ran a hand up and down her back, and used a leg to flip a blanket toward them. He arranged it around them, as comfortably as he could is the limited space.

“Are you alright?” He asked her after a few minutes. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to ask sooner. She nodded.

“Yes, I’m alright.” She paused. “Can I tell you something? And you won’t take it the wrong way?”

“You can tell me anything, and I’ll do my best to understand.” He replied.

She lifted up on her elbows and smiled warmly at him. “I love you.”

Harry couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face. He knew exactly what she meant, and the comfort it gave him would combat the locket’s effects for weeks to come. He cupped her cheek again, as he had at the beginning. “I love you too, Mi.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this little adventure into Harry and Hermione territory. A little influence from book and film canon (that dancing scene always gets me), but mostly just a good story of their enduring friendship. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!


End file.
